


the banks of certain rivers

by Issay



Series: One-shot collection [16]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Safe Sane and Consensual, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 06:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19329139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: Allison loves her sister so the world ends.Allison loves her sister so the moon falls, and they all need to go back in time - but this is not a story about that. Someone else will tell you that story if you ask nicely. No, this will not bring you relief, it will not fix anything because certain things cannot be fixed.So let's start again, shall we?Allison loves her sister so the world does not end.





	the banks of certain rivers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to say this once and only once: I did not use the incest tag as there is no canonical proof that the Hargreeves' are related. I also don't consider them "raised to be siblings" because let's face it, Reginald was more of their owner than their father.
> 
> If you have a problem with Allison/Luther pairing (which is tagged), kindly move on and don't bother reading this.
> 
> Not beta-read because, well, I'm me and my creative process would drive anyone insane.

Allison loves her sister so the world ends.

Allison loves all of her siblings, though each a bit differently. She loves Klaus with fond exasperation, and Diego from a careful distance, and Five even though she doesn't know the stranger who looks like her little brother (and he's their little brother now, they were all born on the same day, how insane is that). She loves Luther fiercely, this gentle and kind man whose giant body hides a fragile and wounded heart. And she loves Vanya because being a family sometimes means loving someone despite the fact they're trying to destroy the world.

Allison loves her sister so the moon falls, and they all need to go back in time - but this is not a story about that. Someone else will tell you that story if you ask nicely, and maybe you'll learn about how when she leaves the Academy, Allison does so with Luther. They'll tell you all about how she worked as a waitress and he as a delivery boy, and how their first apartment was a dump but it was more home than the brownstone complex of the Academy ever was. How they both eventually get college degrees (she's a teacher, and he's a veterinarian, and they lead boring but happy lives), or how they change their surname. They can't get married but they still exchange rings. All of that deserves its own separate story - and this is not it.

So let's start again, shall we?

Allison loves her sister so the world does not end.

The shot rings out and suddenly everything stops, her brothers fall onto the ground and Vanya's body falls into Allison's waiting arms, gun thrown away to the side, and down they go. When Luther kneels next to them - no, to her, it's just her now and the dead body in her embrace - Allison's weeping soundlessly, her body shakes with grief and shock and guilt. Diego curses softly and closes Vanya's unseeing eyes, his fingers trembling. She'd look like she's asleep if it wasn't for the bullet hole between her eyes and a thin ribbon of blood slowly making its way down her face. With a sigh of a tired, old man Five sits down and takes Vanya's hand. Only Klaus is left standing as they huddle together, Luther's arm around Allison as if he's hoping to keep her from shaking apart. They can hear the sirens, coming closer and closer.

"She says it's okay," Klaus finally looks down at them with a sad smile. "Allison, Vanya's not mad at you. It's okay. She forgives you, and she says she's sorry. Fuck, I need a drink."

*

It's almost morning when they're allowed to leave the precinct - all five of them ( _no, all seven if you count the dead crowding Klaus; Vanya's fingers brushing his knuckles, Ben's shadow over his shoulder_ ). Five's so exhausted he nearly sleepwalks, and Allison still has Vanya's blood spattered across her face so Diego leads them to the closest hotel. It's not much but it's clean and with whatever cash they can dig out of their pockets they get two rooms. Meaningful looks are exchanged - Ben rolls his eyes - before Luther takes one key and Allison follows him mutely.

"You think she'll be fine?" asks Diego quietly when he and Klaus enter their room; Five asleep on Diego's shoulder, his juvenile body gave up the fight with sleep somewhere between the precinct and check-in. Number Four sits down heavily on the small sofa in the corner.

"I think..." His eyes stray to the two ghosts making themselves comfortable in the corner of the room, Ben's arm around Vanya. He sighs. "I think it's gonna take a lot of time. And Luther. It's gonna take Luther."

  
  


When the door to their room closes, Allison doesn't know what to do so she just stands there, notepad and marker still clutched in her bloodied hands. Luther leaves his coat on the hanger and looks at her with so much tenderness she wants to scream.

"I'm going to draw you bath, okay?"

Not waiting for the reply, he disappears in the bathroom. Allison's hand tightens on the notepad and then relaxes again, and she puts both it and the marker on a nightstand. She doesn't know what to do but she has a childhood worth of training to rely on, and the Academy was clear that when in doubt you follow Number One's lead. So Allison kicks off her shoes and when she can hear water sloshing in the tub, she stands in bathroom door. He added some bergamot-scented hotel soap to the bathwater, ever so thoughtful. She nearly smiles.

„It's ready,” Luther says and reaches for her. Without hesitation, Allison steps into his arms – the bathroom is tiny and his body fills up most of the space – and waits. He helps her slip out of the clothes she's in and if it wasn't for Vanya's blood still on her face, if it was any other day, Allison would find the scarlet blush on his face endearing. Wearing only matched panties and bra (comfortable cotton, none of the itchy lace Patrick liked to see her in) she slides into the water, and curls with knees hugged tightly to her chest.

Luther watches her with so much softness and love she has to look away and stare at her own toenails, distorted by water and soap bubbles. Allison knows she doesn't deserve him – Luther is the kindest man she knows, and she's tainted: a liar, a manipulator, killer of her own sister. What kind of monster does this make her?  
Sighing, Luther disappears in the bedroom for a moment and returns only in pants and shirt, barefoot. Without a word, he kneels down next to the tub and reaches for the bath cloth, wets it and gently rubs blood off Allison's face. Resigned, she closes her eyes and leans into the touch. It's warm and peaceful, water sloshing a bit and sounds of the city waking up coming from somewhere outside. With his sleeves rolled up, Luther gently washes her hands, her arms, her back.

“We'll have to talk about this eventually,” he says softly and Allison nods. “But not yet.”

She's fine with it. Allison spends a little bit more time in the water, relishing the touch of Luther's big, warm hands – careful, so careful on her skin, reminding her that they're alive and Vanya is not, Vanya is in the morgue waiting for a funeral home to pick her body up and burn it ( _Vanya is curled in the corner of the other room, holding Ben's hand tightly_ ). They'll spread her ashes in the garden, Allison knows, oh, no, they won't because they don't have a garden, they don't even have a home because Vanya destroyed it. All of it. Allison reminds herself not to hate her because hating is dangerous,  _especially_ when you're a Hargreeves. Instead, she makes a note that living conditions, and new clothes, and inheritance matters have to be sorted out as soon as possible for all six of them.

Five of them, she corrects herself and sighs sadly. The water is getting cold.

Luther helps her out of the tub and turns around to give her some privacy. Allison takes off her soaking wet underwear and hangs it on the radiator, wrapping herself in the towel. Then, she clings to his back, pawing at the shirt, trying to slip her fingers underneath it.

“We can't,” he says quietly. “It's not right.”

' _You're all I've got left_ ,' she wants to say. ' _I don't have a home, a sister, or even a change of clothes. I've lost it all but I've still got you, and we're alive, and I need you._ '

But her aching throat refuses to cooperate so Allison allows the towel to slip onto the floor and moves to stand in front of him. Luther has his eyes closed. She forgot how well he knows her. Slowly, as if not to startle him, Allison puts her hands on his chest – she can feel the beating of his heart under her fingertips, and the heat of his body keeps the cold air at bay. Luther forgot she knows him quite well too, and she knows that he won't turn her away when she stands on her toes and slides her hands up, to frame his face. He doesn't protest when she kisses him, no, he kisses back, not opening his mouth for her tongue like it makes this any different. Allison lets him go when he reaches to take off his shirt – only to wrap it around her shoulders with loving smile on his face.

“You're hurting,” he says softly and presses another kiss to her forehead. “I don't want to be something you'll regret in the morning.”

Allison would argue, would say that he is the one thing she could never regret, but exhaustion crashes over her like a wave. Luther leads her to he bed. There's only one, a double but with his size it's going to be a tight fit.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers but Allison shakes her head so hard her throat protests with dull throbbing. If she can't have him the way she wants, she'll take whatever he is willing to give – even if it's just a warm body next to her. Luther sends her another smile, visibly relieved. “Okay, I'll just grab a quick shower.”

He ducks into the bathroom and Allison busies herself with pulling the covers away, fluffing the pillows, and checks news on her phone. Her e-mail is blowing up, and headlines are screaming about the destruction of the Umbrella Academy complex, and about Vanya's death. She writes a short e-mail to her agent, and switches the phone off. Allison curls into a small ball and waits for Luther to come back, his shirt hangs on her shoulders like a super-oversize dress, and it smells of him which comforts her in a way.

Luther comes back wearing only pants – it just hits her that it is perhaps the first time he doesn't have a shirt and a coat on around her. He just stands there, eyes glued to the ugly carpeting under his feet, allowing Allison a moment to truly look at him. In the golden glow of the lamp next to the bed she can see the bulging of his muscles, fur-like hair, gray shade of his skin. The distinctly inhuman quality of his shape.

“I really can sleep on the floor,” he repeats in a dejected tone, looking up at her uncertainly. Allison shakes her head again and reaches for him, waits until Luther sits on the bed in reach of her arms, and nearly throws herself at him. 

' _This doesn't change anything,'_ she wants to say, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Luther relaxes and holds her, moves them on the bed so they're lying down, Allison resting mostly on his body. She appreciates the care with which his hands arrange her, make sure it's not hurting the wound on her throat. As a thank you, as an apology, Allison brushes a soft kiss against the skin of his neck. Its texture is rougher than she remembers, it seems harder. She doesn't mind.  _'If you can love me as I am, how could I refuse you the same kind of love?'_

He falls asleep almost immediately, the same way he's always had – closed his eyes, took a breath and was oblivious to the world, wherever and whenever he could. Allison tries to follow, she really does. But the darkness of the room and the silence broken only by Luther's breath are too stifling. Eventually the images flooding her head are too vivid and for one insane moment it feels like Vanya's blood is still warm on her face, and Allison weeps unashamedly.

*

It's the sun that wakes her – golden light on her face and the fact that she's alone in the bed. Allison opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling tiredly for a moment: Luther is in the bathroom, she can hear him taking a shower. She cried herself to sleep a few hours before and her body screams for some more rest. Allison ignores it.

There's a knock on the door - quick three thumps, then a pause, and another two. Allison recognizes the patterns, she heard Diego use it multiple times during their Academy days. Luther's still in the bathroom so she slides out of the bed and walks over to open the door. Her brother smiles with slight discomfort (she forgot that she's wearing only a shirt and nothing else, slightly sheer even if it reaches down her thighs) and hands her a few shopping bags without entering the room. Curiously, she peeks inside. Clothes, from the looks of it.

"Five knew where his previous employers kept an emergency stash of money," Diego explains when she looks up in confusion. "Klaus picked some stuff for all of us, and there's breakfast in our room."

He leaves once she nods - Allison almost hisses in pain, her throat is stiff and the wound needs redressing. She drops the bags onto the bed and wordlessly blesses Klaus' twisted little brain: among the mix of male and female clothing bought in a chain store she finds a set of panties, a bra that looks like it's going to fit, and a pair of ballet flats. She casts a dubious look at her own shoes - they're spattered with blood and Allison needs to turn her eyes away. Carefully, she sets the new pair aside and busies herself with fishing things out of the bags, removing tags and folding them in two neat piles: one for her, one for Luther. She's not sure how exactly Klaus found sizes that would fit Luther but she's glad he did. She's glad someone except her thinks about what One needs.

When he leaves the bathroom, flooding the small room with soap-scented hot air, she points to the clothes.

> **Five had cash, Klaus did shopping** <, she writes in reply to the curious look Luther shoots her while browsing through his pile. > **Shower, then breakfast. They have coffee** <

Luther is looking at her with those concerned, compassionate eyes as if she was going to fall apart any minute now. She already has, that's the thing, and he has tenderly hushed her through it, kissing her hair and stroking her back without ever waking. So Allison doesn't have the strength to deal with his gentleness, not now, which is why she grabs a bunch of clothes and hides in the bathroom, still warm and slightly damp from Luther's shower.

Allison takes a deep, steadying breath and then reaches out to clear the condensation from the mirror, and looks at herself. She has definitely seen better days: there are dark circles under her puffy eyes and her hair is a mess. Allison slowly reaches up and unwraps the bandages, baring her stitched up, barely-held-together throat and considers it for a long moment. There's nothing enchanting in the look of her own flesh held together by silvery thread, skin angry and reddened, slight swelling suggesting that an antibiotic cream is in order. She takes it all in and accepts it, just like somewhere during the night she accepted being someone who kills her own sister and refuses to regret saving the world.

Regretting not having time to find another solution - yes. Regretting Luther's role in Vanya's breakdown - definitely. But she will not regret pulling that trigger.

Allison steps under the spray and washes herself thoroughly, water as hot as she can handle like it could get rid of the sin and the pain. She towels herself down and dresses quickly: something simple, black leggings and black thigh-length shirt, they're in mourning after all. They should all wear black, she thinks.

Luther is patiently waiting when she emerges from the bathroom, and there's a small bag from a pharmacy in his huge hands.

"Diego dropped by with this. I think someone else should do it," he says, uncertain. "I'd be afraid of hurting you."

Don't be ridiculous, she wants to say. Instead, the takes the bag to the bathroom and tends to it herself: swipe with antiseptic, put a layer of antibiotic, put a gauze on top and secure with a bandage. Easy. Allison finds also an oral antibiotic and washes it down with a sip of cold water. Slipping into her new flats - damned Klaus got her sizes perfect but the shoes are a bit too small, doesn't matter - Allison reaches for her notepad and a marker, and nods her readiness.

They make their way to their siblings' room just in time to grab the last of the bagels and two cups of coffee.

> **We need to get to Dad's lawyer** < Allison writes after they're all fed and appropriately caffeinated to face the day (Five is slowly sipping his third cup). > **Money & place to live** <

They haven't discussed this, obviously - there was no time to talk about what comes next, but Allison wants to keep her family together, what is left of it anyway, so she assumes they stick together. The Hargreeves empire was vast, and she knows that there are trust funds set up for them all - maybe except for Klaus, they all know dad sometimes spoke about writing him out of the will.

"There's that summer home just outside the city," remembers Diego as he gets rid of empty paper bags and cups. "What was the lawyer's name, Richmond? Richardson?"

> **Edgar Richmond** < she writes, avoiding looking at her brothers as much as she can. Except for Five, they've all been staring at her with the same apprehension Luther does and it's driving her insane. Like they're afraid of her, or maybe for her - it doesn't matter, it's insulting regardless of the option. She has managed on her own so far, what makes them think she'll snap now?

On Luther's orders they go back to the room and pack their meager belongings into one of the shopping bags, and then meet up with the rest of the group outside. Before they leave, Allison climbs onto her toes and presses a gentle, steadying kiss onto Luther's cheek - just because she can.

*

Before the day is over, they have a place to stay, a fridge filled to the brim, and Allison has a laptop. It was a pretty long day, she has to admit.

The summer house - a mansion, really - is dusty and looks as if it was stuck back in the 1950s but it has more than enough space and a sizable garden so she's happy with it. By complete chance Allison claims the bedroom that shares a bathroom with Luther's, and if anyone picks up on this, they do not comment.

(Except for Klaus who wiggles his eyebrows and mouths something like "you go, girl", and she's ridiculously fond of him at that moment.)

She curls up on the bed with a laptop and spends an hour or two systematically ordering clothes - for herself but also for the boys because she knows they'll walk around in the same pants and shirts they have on their backs until they get shredded. Then she has another weeping fit, and then she's fine, and then it feels like nothing will ever be fine again. Exhausted with her own brain, she sneaks out of the house - Diego is squabbling with Klaus over the choice of bedroom somewhere, and Luther has found the gym in their basement so he's lost to the world - and takes a slow walk through the overgrown garden. It's already dark outside and the cold of the night is settling on her shoulders - Allison welcomes the chill. She makes mental notes about the vegetable patches that need some serious work but are promising, and about a fountain that should probably just be demolished and rebuilt, and a pond that houses God knows what. Allison curls up on a stone bench next to the ruined greenhouse when Five finds her.

"Nice night," he says instead of a hello and sits down next to her, their shoulders brushing. Her notepad is in the house so Allison can only nod her reply. They're silent for a little while, looking at the stars. She might be crying. She's tired of crying.

"You know, they won't understand," Five says quietly after some time, not looking in her direction. "I've spent a lot of time killing people during my employment. I know I can't compare it to killing someone you love but I get that it's hard. But you're tough. You're gonna be just fine."

Allison reaches out and squeezes his hand in a wordless thank-you. They stay there for a while longer until it gets too cold and Five walks her home, and then disappears in the darkness. She watches him go but isn't worried - he may be the least irresponsible of them all which is saying something.

After showering (she makes a mental note to scrub the tub with bleach in the morning, there's something living in the corner and it wasn't too happy about being splashed with her soapy water), she slips into a long t-shirt that will serve its purpose as a nightie and opens the door to Luther's bedroom.

He looks at her questioningly - but then Allison raises an eyebrow defiantly and he makes some space for her, obedient as ever. She curls up in his arms and this time sleeps without dreaming.

*

They seem strange, these days trapped in amber - they're willingly stuck in the house, learning to share space as adults and finding out that things that were true when they were still in the Academy are not valid any longer. Allison is astonished when it's Diego who takes up the responsibility for family breakfasts (the custom so burned into their heads they're not even fighting it anymore) and she allows herself to enjoy the warm atmosphere of that bright, cozy kitchen when he whistles over frying eggs and making coffee. Sometimes she helps out and Diego shows patience she hasn't suspected he had when teaching her how to make an omelet or prepare sausages. It's awkward, at first.

"I don't blame you," he randomly says on the third morning. "And I'm not judging. We're all alive thanks to you."

Allison mulls it over and reaches for her notepad, the small version she now keeps in the back pocket of her jeans along with a pen. She tried writing in shorthand but it would require the boys learning it so she takes a moment to write in full sentences.

> **I blame myself. There had to be another way** <

Diego shakes his head, reaches out and kisses the top of her hand in a wordless gesture, then turns around ashamed of that moment of vulnerability. She doesn't need him to explain it.

Klaus, on the other hand, avoids her like the plague for the first two weeks of their newly found domesticity. Not that Allison blames him, after all he speaks to the dead and Vanya has all the reasons to hate her for that night. Klaus leaves the room every time she enters it, he cuts breakfasts as short as he can, and even Five is confused by his behavior. It hurts. She has expected the pain but it doesn't make it any better.

"He'll come around," Luther says comfortingly one night when she cries about it, unashamed of the hurt because there is nothing she can be ashamed of in front of him, and it scares her shitless. She has given up the pretenses and uses her room as a walk-in closet. He has accepted it graciously and moved his pillows to accommodate for hers. Allison is terrified and elated at the same time by this closeness, the intimacy that could be made better only if Luther had finally accepted that she wants him - entirety of him.

The mystery behind Klaus' behavior solves itself a few days later, and just in time because the atmosphere in the house was becoming more and more strained with each passing day. He finds Allison when she's weeding the garden, a thankless task that she performs with a degree of pleasure. Not waiting for her to shed the gloves, he pulls her up, hugs her tightly and pulls toward the greenhouse.

"I've got something to show you," he says excitedly when confused Allison sits down on a bench he indicated. "I've been working on this for ages. Don't freak out."

With this, he focuses and stretches his arms in front of him - and under his spread fingers Vanya appears. Vanya, who almost looks alive if it wasn't for the faint glow around her, and Allison is crying soundlessly. Vanya who's got brown eyes and a kind smile on her dead face.

"We don't have much time," she says, reaching for Allison's hands and placing her translucent fingers on them. "It drains him too badly. Allison, I don't blame you. I wanted to thank you."

When Allison reaches for her notepad, Vanya only shakes her head.

"Shhhh, this is not for you - this is for me," she smiles again. "I almost killed you, and I almost destroyed the world, all because I was stupid enough to believe the first guy I've met. I'm thankful that you stopped me. It doesn't make you a monster, and it doesn't make you a bad sister. Shh, don't cry, Allison. It's gonna be okay."

She vanishes when Klaus can't hold it any longer, and he falls - exhausted, sweaty and shaking like a leaf - into Allison's arms just like Vanya's dead body did all those weeks ago. They cry together for a long time, and after they're spent Klaus talks in a trembling whispers about time travel, and meeting the love of his life, and about death he understands so intimately. Luther finds them hours later, holding each other tightly and looking at the night sky visible through missing glass panes of the ceiling.

Allison doesn't tell him about Klaus' newly honed powers but he knows that something happened anyway because that's what Luther does - he knows things about her. Allison's weirdly fine with that.

  
  


The encounter leaves Allison shaken, like the ground has moved and things are still not as they should be. So she does what she does best: hunkers down and rides the tremors out until she knows which way is north again. She spends hours on her knees - a penance, an apology - weeding out the garden and planting new things, her manicured nails ruined and hands covered to her elbows with dirt. Diego consults on the vegetable patches and together they order saplings. She puts them into the warm, rich soil with satisfaction while Diego and Luther work on repairing the greenhouse, replacing missing tiles and chasing the ancient spiders away (Klaus suggests they grow weed in there, he's immediately shot down. Aw, hell, she thinks, maybe one patch somewhere Luther won't notice). Once she's done with vegetables, Allison moves to a separated corner of the garden, closed off on three sides by tall hedges. She spends some time sitting on the ground there and thinking, then nods to herself and gets to work. Flowers are planted there: immortal dahlias and delicate rose bushes, she fills the space up with azaleas and soft little bluebells, carnations and freesias and peonies. Allison bows over lavender and orders some rhododendrons.

"It's beautiful," Klaus says softly one gorgeous violet evening, finding her on a swing set she made Luther install on one of the old apple trees in that corner. His gaze turns to someone standing on his left. "Vanya says you have some real talent growing things."

Allison allows herself a small smile, still too lost in thought and too shaken for her own liking.

Few days after that they retrieve Vanya's ashes from a funeral home and bury the urn in the corner Allison created. Diego adds a small memorial plaque made of glass, with just the names and dates: Ben Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves, Grace Hargreeves, Pogo Hargreeves - always in loving memory. There are no speeches, no priests or masters of ceremony - just mournful silence and overpowering scent of flowers.

"They're still under the rubble," Five says, strangely subdued when they're walking back to the house, all remaining five of them (and two shadows, if you'd ask Klaus). Diego makes a small noise of distress and Allison adds to her stack of mental notes to take care of this as soon as humanly possible. Luther walks behind her, steady as always, and she blindly reaches back seeking his hand for comfort. He gives it to her, like always.

  
  


Luther, as giving and loving as he is, still won't sleep with her in the carnal sense of the word.

He undresses in the bathroom - thing she found endearing in the beginning but it's more and more grating with every night that passes. While Allison isn't bothered by his roaming eyes, he hides from her gaze. His touch is intended to bring comfort, not desire - he doesn't mean to make her blood boil, she knows, but she's a red-blooded woman and she sleeps tangled with him every night. Once not dulled by raw grief, the itch is becoming more urgent. Allison has no idea what to do - Luther avoids the topic like the plague and she doesn't want to play any games with him. Sure, the idea of moving back to her bedroom appears in her mind, just like asking if she truly is this atrocious he can't bring himself to touch her with desire. But this is Luther. She loves him too much to play games, and she knows this is not about her or even about the fact they were brought up together. This thing between them has never felt wrong, not even once. Allison is certain no one will ever love her like Luther does, and that she won't be able to give her heart to anyone else with as much trust as she gives it to him. If there is such a thing as destiny - this is it. No, this entire thing isn't about whether or not he loves her (she'll never doubt it), Allison figures it's about his lack of purpose.

They're all on the crossroads, directionless and thrown out of their own paths, holding together with desperation of people who don't know what else to do but hold on. Five hurriedly catches up to what he has missed, Klaus talks to the dead and mourns his lost love, Diego refuses to talk. He spends entire days without speaking, quite literally, and it's yet another thing Allison is worried about. And Luther - who has always had a purpose in life, a mission - is reeling even more than the rest of them.

  
  


And so Allison talks to Diego who mulls it over and after a few days talks it over with Five, who completely skips discussing it with Klaus - because having Klaus sane and sober at the same time is a complete novelty and they've been struggling with adjusting to it - and simply says over breakfast:

"You know, this fiasco showed that we're out of alignment. In case another apocalyptic event happens, we need to be better prepared - and Luther, you need to train us."

Fuck, Allison thinks while trying not to choke on a piece of her toast, we really need to work on communication. But as astonishing as it sounds, no one really has a problem with it. Klaus takes it in stride and uses their working sessions to bring out Ben, and together with Diego and Luther they work on being sort of a first line offense. Five in the meantime - their sharpshooter, apparently - works with Allison on her hand to hand combat.

"It's like a fucked up family bonding exercise," Diego comments one day while making sure her knuckles are wrapped correctly and Allison is inclined to agree. She hasn't felt this close to all of her siblings (alive and dead ones, though Vanya rarely makes an appearance - something that Klaus says is due to her powers being too much for him to channel safely in combat) since the Academy years. But more importantly she gets to see Luther in his element - directing and taking note of their personal styles, adjusting potential battle plans and discussing tactics for hours. They analyze their old fights from the Academy, and they talk about that last night with Vanya.

"There nothing you could have done better," Vanya herself cuts them off sometime before midnight. Klaus smiles innocently. "I would have killed you anyway."

It sort of kills the discussion.

  
  


But when they finally stumble into their bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, Luther bends down and kisses her - not one of those precious pecks or lip-only kisses, no, a full-on assault on her lips, with a tongue and need she hasn't felt from him in weeks. She's dripping wet even before Luther takes her by the hips - her legs hug his body even without Allison's conscious decision - and sits on the bed so that she's perched on his lap facing him, thin fabric of the skirt barely holding on. She bunches it up not really thinking about it and grinds down, Luther's groan gets lost between her lips.

She slows the kiss down, enjoying the heat of his hands roaming on her back and the rapidly hardening length she can feel with every move she makes. Allison gasps soundlessly when Luther's lips move to her neck and find that little spot that has always made her go a little light-headed, and she's surprised he still remembers. But then again her own fingers still know the path to that place just above his collarbone which, if pressed carefully, elicits the most delicious groan. His body is obviously changed, much different from the rock-steady boy she remembers but apparently some things never changed.

"We should talk about this," Luther mutters into her skin between sucking hickeys and she stops herself from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Clumsily, Allison reaches out for one of the multiple notepads now strewn around the house and writes hastily as he's still making it hard to focus by moving his hands under the flimsy t-shirt she's wearing.

> **Don't be ridiculous** < she writes, > **I'm on a pill & that's all we need to talk about** <

"I love you," Luther says before catching her lips again in a bruising kiss. Allison breaks it for a second to throw the t-shirt onto the floor and taps his collarbone four times in a wordless version of "I love you too".

Some part of her too far gone brain knows how important it is for her to allow Luther to undress in his own time and, once he bares himself for her eyes, and to kiss him with the same passion as before.

 _It doesn't change anything_ , she wants to say as her hands slide over the rougher, differently textured skin of her lover, _I want you all the same_. She would scream it for him if only her throat allowed it when he makes her come again and again with his head between her thighs, and with his fingers - bigger than she's used to, yes, but he patiently works her open, makes sure he won't hurt her. That's her Luther, the most thoughtful person she knows, even when he's been aroused for hours. He watches her face as he pushes in, slowly, making sure not to overwhelm her and ready to stop at the slightest wince - it hurts but what Luther doesn't understand is that sometimes pain and pleasure are entangled so much they're impossible to part, so Allison doesn't wince and relishes it when he's finally fully inside. She allows herself to lose the sense of time and reality, to breathe in his scent and mark the passage of time only by the thrusts and steady building up of her orgasm until it explodes and leaves her boneless under the strained movements of his Luther's body.

When he comes, he presses as deeply into her as possible and for a long moment they stay like this – on their sides, touching from toes to foreheads, looking into each other's eyes. Absent to the rest of the world.

Allison finally feels whole again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from this lovely quote by Czesław Miłosz:  
> "when it hurts, we return to banks of certain rivers"


End file.
